


I'm The Alpha Now

by fotoshop_cutout



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:09:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fotoshop_cutout/pseuds/fotoshop_cutout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek hadn’t thought he’d need to keep Stiles out of the fray—</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm The Alpha Now

**Author's Note:**

> This work was spawned from [this](http://25.media.tumblr.com/cf298a51a62995e32e5c986e485fbd66/tumblr_mndiyyOw7N1qco907o1_r1_500.png) wonderful edit, by [sassyunclepeter](http://sassyunclepeter.tumblr.com/tagged/edit:mine).

Derek hadn’t thought he’d need to keep Stiles out of the fray—Scott was the one who had wanted the cure. Not that Stiles wasn’t jumping at the chance to get rid of his relatively new found lycanthropy, but Scott was more verbal and gung-ho about it. So Derek had thought to get between the scorched body of his Uncle and Scott, but Stiles was over by Jackson and the Porsche. He’d thought the boy would stay away, given his expression, but then Peter had started to get up—

* * *

Derek watched Stiles with hooded eyes; he still regretted not stopping the Highschooler from finishing off his Uncle that dreadful night, if he had then the Alpha Pack wouldn’t be after the boy. He watched his Alpha pace the floor of the ramshackle house, the soles of his sneakers leaving footprints in the dust and crunching the brown leaves where they were scattered on the old floorboards. Derek licked his lips, wanting to say something, anything, to be able to help. His index finger twitched and Stiles’ eyes snapped over to him, eyes blood red in the half light of the early morning. After a heavy moment of silence and Derek carefully looking away every few seconds of eye contact, Stiles crossed the remaining distance and plopped down on the old, mildewed couch next to him.

“I just don’t see why they don’t just attack already. It’s burning me out, wearing me thin. I’m so anxious.” Even Stiles’ tone was wan and drawn out, like he was stretched too far. He scrubbed at his face with his long, thin hands. Derek watched and grieved for the family that had been taken from him at too early an age, grieved for this boy who didn’t need to be worrying about all of this supernatural bullshit—he needed to be worried about SATs and finals week and getting college applications out and maybe a prom date.

“That’s they’re plan. Get you when you’re down, so the fight is quick.” Derek’s tone had a slant to it, even though it was gruff, that made it sound like he was apologizing. Stiles glanced at him and slouched back, his nose twitching. He leaned slightly so their sides were brushing. Derek looked down at where his fingers had tangled around each other and his dirty, ratty black sneakers were like charcoal against the light tan of weather-worn wood. He glanced up then and found some cobwebs and dust and soot on the ceiling. There was nothing really to look at except Stiles, so he found himself looking again—watching.

“So you’re telling me to not sweat the small stuff?” Stiles’ mouth quirked to the side and he shook his head in a jerky, abrupt motion. “Or are you trying to get me to bring the fight to them?”

“Neither.” Derek’s answer was too fast, it just spewed out of him before he’d even thought about it. Knee-jerk reaction and all that. He glanced at his Alpha, this boy that shouldn’t have even been bitten. He was running his hand over his buzzed off hair—front and back, front and back—and looking like he was about to start pacing again. Derek’s hand found its way to Stiles’ knee and rested there, trying to seem soothing or supportive or something in between. “I was just telling you what their plan was.”

They were silent for a long while and Derek nearly jumped out of his skin when Stiles’ hand laid over his, which he had forgotten on the Alpha’s knee. Their fingers threaded together and held tight and fast, like it was a lifeline. Maybe it was, or maybe no one had ever taught them how to hold hands without trying to crush the other person’s.

“Where’s Scott?” It tore from his mouth before he thought it through, but it gave him something to say, so holding his Alpha’s hand didn’t seem so strange and foreign. Stiles didn’t seem to notice that there was anything weird about holding hands.

“Where do you think?” He scoffed, “With Allison somewhere, no doubt. Can’t peel the two apart with a crowbar these days.”


End file.
